Battles of Dark Souls
by Long Goner
Summary: In Dark Souls, you start thinking a while about "OH! What if those two faced off!" Or "EEEEH, FANGIRLISM WHAT IF THAT GUY FOUGHT THAT GUY EEEEEH!" Or something. Now, what if those battles were to happen? In this story they might.
1. The First Battle A few words

**Hi guys. Been a while since I wrote anything (except reviews) on Fan Fiction. My story, Through Eastern Eyes, has been stalled for ages, and I'm running out of ideas. I guess I owe you people a reason, and it's a pretty good one.**

**If you've received a review from me, you would know it is not always pleasant. They are often critical, punishing, without mercy and often leave a bad taste in your mouth. Now while many seem to agree with what I say, there are people that can't take it. I've gotten ragemail with guys yelling like children at me for "insulting" their work.**

**In Through Eastern Eyes I tried to set my gaze on perfection, but that simply led to paranoia. I've come to understand that I can't be as critical with myself as others, unfairly enough. And although TEE grew lots of support, I never felt satisfied myself, and forcing yourself to write is a rare gift *Cough* Queen Sydon *Cough***

**So now I will write something about out my ordinary: A series of battles between DkS related characters. They can be set in any area (make your own backstory of how they met). They could be duels, FFAs or other custom made gamemodes. They could be between NPCs, enemies, bosses, builds (suggestions may start) or even some YouTubers/known DkS community members. I myself don't spend much time on YouTube, but I am certain that many do.**

**For this first chapter, it will be a duel between a Darkwraith and a Black Knight. Starting it casually, you know?**

…

And they clashed. Two swords made a loud clang as they hit one another, forcing their wielders into a struggle for the upper-hand. The Darkwraith two-handed its blade, and pushed the Knight of Gwyn back. The black-clad fighter broke the struggle, and slashed his equally black blade diagonally towards the Wraith's chest. The move was side-stepped, and the Black Knight received a knee to the face. He fell on his back, but the Wraith did not compensate. It instead opened its dark mask's mouth, and out came a hiss: _"Is this what the famed knights of the Sunlight Lord have to offer? A predictable, foolish jester of a fighter?"_

The Black Knight did not respond, just pushed off the ground with his shield, and observed his surroundings. Behind the Wraith was a solid brick wall, to the left of said wall was a doorway leading to an open area with shallow water in the center. The Knight wanted more space, so that was where he was leading the battle.

He started circling. The Wraith followed, circling the same way, so that they never met. _Will he follow me if I run through the door?_ He didn't manage to think about it anymore, for the Wraith unleashed a deadly cut against his swordarm. He pulled it back, and tried to bash the front of his shield into the dark warrior. It seemed like it would hit, but in the last second a dark hole appeared in front of the Wraith. _The Dark Hand._ The Knight pushed on, before breaking off and running through the doorway, the Wraith closely behind.

_Good, now I have more space to swing my sword._

Immediately turning around, a spinning slash touched the Wraith's left leg, but no cut appeared. Instead, the Darkwraith took advantage of his opponent's vulnerable head, and swung for it. A black shield came into its way, but it was but a feign. The blade was pulled back, and a kick soon hit the Knight's knee, before another one was sent for his head. But the Knight did a surprising move, and cut vertically, landing a solid slash on the dark warrior's torso.

_Hisss! The knight is smart!_

The Wraith was used to that people covered in fear by its pure appearance. Such recklessness was unexpected. The Knight compensated with a kick of his own into the dark warrior's chest, which sprawled it into the shallow water. The Wraith expected a critical hit, but none came. A voice hit him however: **"You allowed me another chance."**

The Wraith hissed at the remark, remembering having the Knight dead to rights at the beginning of their fight. It would show no mercy the next time. Now it was the dark servant's time to look for environmental help. Its eyes immediately fell on the water. _Does he need to breathe?_ It looked at the Knight, and truly enough, the cold air of New Londo unveiled small clouds of smoke coming from the Black Knight's mouth.

The Wraith now had a plan. _Fist combat._

The Knight was taken off-guard by a sudden charge from the Wraith. It hit his abdomen hard, attempting to tackle him, but he held his stand. Before he could recover completely however, the Wraith banged the back of its head into his helmet, causing him to stumble backwards. Immediately a swing came from the Wraith, which was parried by his sword. But the Wraith seemingly gladly tossed its blade away, taking the Knight's sword with it too. Then the Dark Hand came. It activated in its now empty swordarm, lunging for the Knight. It was blocked however. Then a right hand punch came from its opponent, but the Wraith crossed its left arm over and grabbed his wrist.

It pulled, and the Knight's balance was lost.

A kick landed, and the Knight fell to his knees.

A punch came, and the Knight fell on his back. The water consumed him.

He tried to rise up, but he couldn't. Even though he could barely see, the Wraith's weight was clearly already on him, forcing him under again. He had reached a gasp of air however, and was now testing his own strength against the dark servant's. He was physically more powerful, and was rapidly breaking out of the Wraith's grip on his hands. And then his right arm was loose.

The Wraith shrieked as a metal fist struck its jaw, before grabbing it and pulling it down, headbutting it into the armored chest of the Knight. It still refused to let the Knight up. It had been trained to resist pain. It felt however, that one of the Knight's legs was loose. It looked down, but received a boot in the face. The Wraith still did not let go. The boot pushed hard against its jaw, but the force behind it was rapidly fading. Then the boot's pressure went away, and the Wraith looked triumphantly down, but then received an even harder blow from the Knight's boot. This time it fell off, and even more than that. The back of its head struck the marble floor of the pool, almost knocking the dark servant out. Before it could get up and retort, a plated leg landed on its chest. The Knight had won. He was right now preparing to strike the killing blow.

Then he felt an immense pain. A hard jab through his chest. He looked down, and saw the end of a Darksword sticking out. It had missed the heart, so the Knight of Gwyn used his energy that was left to finish his opponent. The sword hit hard, splintering the Wraith's ribs and puncturing whatever was in the monster's gut. It died instantly.

The sword was pulled from the Knight's chest. And he fell down. The newly arrived Wraith looked down on its fallen enemy. It did not triumph or cheer. Not necessarily because of its fallen ally, but more because it had learned to control its feelings and never cheer upon death. Years of experience had made it think about what it was doing here, and when it wasn't fighting, it thought.

Standing by a ledge overlooking the lower streets, FORMER lower streets, of New Londo, it thought about the city. It was what humans called "drowned", or "fallen". The denizens that had lived here were long dead, without returning. The "plague" that the humans called it had not reached here when a blue Knight of Gwyn had come and ordered a butchering of the city.

The Wraith didn't remember much before that. Just some few moments of pain, but then it was like it woken up ane-

A black sword penetrated its chest, shocking the Wraith tremendously, before a brutal kick sent it down far into the lower streets. The Black Knight consumed a humanity, and said to nobody:

"**Never let your guard down."**

He turned, and received a kick, sending him down with his former victim.

"_No, never do."_

* * *

><p><strong>So that is the first chapter. Suggestions for battlescharacters/stages are welcome. This is probably not the best thing I can spit out, so I would appreciate constructive feedback. Yeah, I just said that. ME!**


	2. Darkroot Gankfest

Sorceress Silvia finished her final enemy, before sheathing her catalyst and dagger. She looked satisfied around her, looking at all the corpses of the Hunters she had slain. It wasn't a pretty sight, but a satisfying one. Especially for someone who weren't too familiar with their combat techniques yet, then slaying all these fighters felt really good.

She was preparing for another battle when she heard a sound. A branch snapped, and heavy steps came her way. She looked into the dark of Darkroot Forest, but no enemy unveiled. But then came a slight figure into her sight. Then the rest of the man entered. And this was no slight figure.

He was clad in black grayish armor, his leggings looked like stone, and his gloves had horrible chains around them that looked like they weighed more than Silvia's full garb. His chestplate was the most horrifying. It looked like the armor that the knights of Berenike wore, but it had thorns coming out of its shoulderplates and all the way down to his elbow. On his head was a sack with eyeholes crudely cut out, and on his shoulder rested a gigantic axe that also looked sharp enough to sever her head with a slight nick. It reminded her too much of an executioner. His left arm wielded a steel shield that most likely could crush Silvia with a mere push.

She ran. She ran and ran and ran from the charging foe. She ran for the bridge crossing to the other side of the Forest, hoping that she could lose him and surprise him there.

His steps were like earthquakes behind her, and they were getting closer. Her first steps hit the stone of the bridge, but now he could not be further than 30 feet behind her, his stomping was too close.

Panicking, Silvia turned around and blasted a soul spear towards the hulk of a man. It bounced off his shield like a feather trying to stop a charging rhino. She wouldn't do much more with her full weight of about 60 KG. Seeing no other option, she sheathed her catalyst and pulled out her dagger. The axe came down, but Silvia was ready, and dodged under the axe. It smashed the stone next to her right leg, and the close call was enough to startle Silvia. She didn't muster to try a counterattack before the giant shield came her way. She tried to backstep the attack, but she didn't go far enough, so the shield nicked her anyway, causing her to stumble. She almost fell, but it would have been better if she had, for the axe came again. It knocked the sorceress hat off her head, revealing her blonde hair, which now fell freely into her eyes.

A survivor's instinct kicked in, and she hopped backwards, just as the colossus swung again. Now she had rolled into a stone structure similar to the one on the other side of the bridge, with a staircase leading down to the right off her. She tried to take in the rest of the building, but suddenly the giant man tackled her so brutally, the spikes on his shoulders punctured her cloth and stomach. It was followed by a toss over the man's back, sending her into a summersault before landing hard on her back.

Wounded and fatigued, she had no energy left to rise up again. Her rapidly fading eyes observed the man lifting his axe high, and readying the "execution". Then blackness so dark filled her vision, she thought she had died. But she was still breathing, although barely, and she was still feeling pain, so she must be alive? Then a healing so fresh repaired all her wounds and clothes, and breathing no longer hurt. A faint voice said: "She is mine."

Then the dark shield covering her eyes pulled back, revealing an equally hulking man wearing the armor of the Iron Golem and the helmet off a legendary Berenike Knight, a giant axe made off a Dragon's tail lying on his shoulder. Said axe was already bearing down on her, but due to her recent healing, she was able to slide between his legs, just as more stone was loosened from the smash of the axe. The man with the sack on his head backstepped, believing the attack was meant for him, but when he saw the black armored man being vulnerable to a counterattack, he charged forward, his axe coming diagonally down on his foe. It was deflected by another swing of the opponents axe, and the Executioner then realized that he was possibly facing someone of equal strength to himself. He would not allow it.

Before his opponent could counter, he bashed into him with his shield, bringing the man off-balance. A swing came down on his head, but it was deflected by the black shield off the Berserker-like knight.

The Berserker, now seeing his opportunity, kicked his opponent back before jumping in with his axe raised high. The Executioner would not manage to block it properly, so he rolled backwards. It wasn't long before a charging shield bash came back though, and they ended up in the middle off the bridge, struggling to push the other back.

Meanwhile, Silvia had managed to get up and observe the two fighters. Both relied on their raw strength, none of them too technically superior. They were accurate with their strikes though. Every parried swing or blocked attack was in perfect balance, and their stances changed every attack to compensate for missing room on the bridge. She knew she would be no good in this fight, as her dagger wouldn't even penetrate their all-covering armor.

She was looking for possible weak spots in their suits when she heard a sound behind her; the sound of an invading phantom. She spun around, and rightfully enough, there was a phantom. This one was the polar opposite of the tanks on the bridge. This one had a long black coat, no helmet, steel leggings and clothed gauntlets. In his arm was a long thrusting weapon and a dagger was sheathed on his lower back. Above said dagger back was a crossbow. He turned around and noticed her. A sleek smile fell upon his face, and she knew that once again she had run into a superior force. But she preferred this guy to the berserkers on the bridge.

He attacked. He spun thrusting blade ceremonially before shooting forward, looking to decapitate Silvia. She narrowly ducked, and tried to thrust back with her dagger, but he swatted it aside with his bare hand. No counterattack came, but her instinct made her dodge. Now she was backing up towards the forest area again. The sleek smile was still plastered on the man's face. _He is playing with me_, she thought angrily.

She anticipated his next move, but when none came, she pulled her catalyst out as quickly as possible and fired a heavy magic arrow. It was despite her speed dodged easily. He was walking intimidatingly towards her, now the smile gone. That made Silvia even more uncomfortable. She decided that there was no reason in fighting, so once again she ran from a superior force.

When she came to the believed exit from the forest, it was no longer there. In its place was a thick fog.

_I can pass through it_, Silvia thought panicked. _I've always been able to_.

But when she hit the fog, it was solid as brick. She could not pass.

She spun around, and saw the man coming towards her, now the smile back on his face. Coming up the stairs, he pulled his crossbow out. _This is it_, she thought, and closed her eyes. The sharp sound from the bow came, but no bolt speared her to the fog wall. Instead it hooked the robes on her elbow, and stuck her to a moss-covered wall. She was still standing unharmed.

Now he finally stood right by her. His breath was in her face. She could not fight, her dagger had been dropped somewhere, and her catalyst was out of reach on the stairs. She had to await the man's judgment. Surprisingly, he spoke: **"Mages like you are normally so annoying." **

She met his eyes, looking up due to him being a few feet taller than her.

"**You though, are easy prey." **With that he put the cold steel of his blade at Silvia's neck, preparing to sever her head. However, in his little speech, he hadn't heard the heavy steps behind him. He didn't know before a greataxe cleaved his spine in half, sending him to his knees, before his head was severed by a devastating blow. His phantom disappeared.

Now stood the Executioner in front of her. He was even more intimidating than the previous man, standing at least 7 foot tall, with an axeblade larger than her torso.

She pleaded. **"Please. Please."**

He walked all the way up to her, and whispered faintly: **"The Executioner knows no mercy."**

With that he pulled his axe back, preparing the killing blow. Silvia was struggling against the bolt through her elbow, sweat pouring down her face. And then it loosened.

She fell uncontrollably forward, as the axe crushed the rock where her head had just been, and she tumbled into the huge man. He looked puzzled, and she used this opportunity to kick him in the chest. He stumbled, not bringing the axe with him. He landed on his shield, which was strapped on his back, the round form of it sending him tumbling down the side of the stairs. He landed with a loud thump.

Silvia looked shocked at her own hands. The act was in a moment of adrenaline, but how had she found the strength? _I could not possibly trip that man over._ Her victory was short-lived however, for the Executioner was already getting back up, now angrier than ever. She was trapped. If she tried to run, he would catch up. Fist fighting would be another story, for her agility would not compensate at all for this giant's grip. She was not refined enough in close combat. Then she saw it. Her dagger, lying on the other side of the stairs. She sprinted around and picked it up, now slightly more confident. Could she kill this man?

No time to think, for here came the giant. He stomped up the stairs, lifting his fist for a devastating punch. He didn't even bother to pick up his axe. He would crush her with his bare hand. She rolled sideways, just as he punched through the old rock of the stairs. She almost tumbled off the edge. The roll had hurt her. _Fighting on these stone stairs won't work. We need to get down on the grass._

Waiting for his next move, she was ready to sprint down the stairs at any given time. No given time came, the next move was too sudden. Once again it was a tackle, and once again Silvia felt the spikes on his shoulders penetrate her body. They fell off the stairs, and with an agonized scream, the spikes were pushed deeper into her belly as they landed on the ground. The man got off her, and she narrowly dodged his coming stomp. The rock boot shook the world for Silvia, as she tried to stand and run to recover for her damages. She started to stumble away, but the huge man's fist closed around the robes off her midsection, pulling her back again. She struggled, and in a rush of panic, the cloth tore off her midsection. She didn't care, she was already running. The Executioner was fumbled for a moment, but quickly pursued her.

Looking over her shoulder Silvia knew this wouldn't last. He couldn't be more than 20 feet behind her. She had to come up with something. She started zigzagging between the trees, but the man was not dumb, so it only led to him getting closer. _He is more familiar with the area than I am._ Running down a slope in the forest, she noticed a bridge with a ladder beside it. She went for the ladder, and just before the man's arm closed around her, she slid down the ladder not caring about the burns on her hands. He could've followed, but something was stopping him. (Get the reference?)

Eventually he came, and when he hit the ground, Silvia realized that she had trapped herself. Across another bridge was a solid fog gate, which she was now backed up against. She hoped that the bridge was too frail to keep the man's weight, but the ropes seemed solid, each of them about 5 cm in radius. Now he came across, not even holding himself steady on the swaying ropes. She smiled slyly. The man stopped for a second because of the smile, but continued walking steadily. She raced to the end of the bridge, her heart pounding, and started cutting the ropes with her dagger. The Executioner realized that if the bridge fell, he would drown in the river. It was not happening.

…_There, almost there!_ Silvia thought frantically, now a mere sliver off the rope left. It snapped… and so did her ribs as a heavy fist punched her gut. She flew into the fog wall, before slamming into the ground, right at the Executioner's feet. He bowed down, eyeing her, almost looking curious. _If I can push him…_

No more thought came, before his large hand closed around her throat, leaving crude wounds with the rough chains around his rock gauntlet. Picking her up with ease, air was rapidly leaving her lungs, her face was turning blue. He did not intend to let her die with this little pain, so he loosened the grip, only to harden it once she had pulled air again.

Silvia was holding both her arms on his, trying to pry his fingers away. Just when she thought she had succeeded, the grip tightened even more than before, and her feet went even further from the ground. Then he dropped her. She hit her feet hard on the ground, falling over from lack of air, inhaling deep pulls of air from the breeze of Darkroot Forest. She wanted to get up, but she lacked energy.

The Executioner would not give her the luxury of breathing again, so he kicked her hard. She fell backwards, and into the flowing river beneath. Her shrieks filled the air as she was pulled underwater, and sent down the waterfall.

_My axe. _The Executioner thought, before leaving this world and returning to his own.

…

**The **_**Executioner **_**is a character that I have use often in the forest. It uses a Greataxe, sometimes a Stone Greataxe or a Large Club, wears a sack with Thorn chest and Havel's gauntlets/leggings. It also uses a Balder Shield.**

**This whole chapter is a dedication to how Dark Souls treated me: I felt like I was getting better, then suddenly (excuse the language) a new foe/invader shows up and beats my shit in. It's a tribute to Darkroot, and how chaotic it can get. And just when you think you have a chance of winning, Dark Souls pushes you under the water again, and you're spit out at a Bonfire. Much like this chapter: Silvia is feeling accomplishment from defeating the Forest Hunter NPCs, but then a force she hasn't encountered before arrives. Seeing how this is a much tougher opponent, she gets beat down. Then suddenly another shows up *Ahem* Maneaters *Ahem*, but then another enemy with a completely different style fights and destroys your build. And when Silvia has gotten her dagger against the unarmed Executioner, she has accomplished something she never thought she could do (happened numerous times on my first playthrough), but then Dark Souls crushes her again. And it doesn't do it quickly. **_**"Just Estus up my little boy, it'll not be punished by a hornet stab/critical grab attack/kick off a ledge/all-the-goddamn-enemies-in-the-goddamn-area showing up to swarm you/1-shot before you reach drinking." **_**Yeah right.**

**As always, feel free to leave suggestions/thoughts on the chapter, and if I do it wrong, it's my turn to be criticized. Have a nice time punishing me.**


	3. Ornstein vs Artorias

_This fic has not been abandoned… yet, but this is most likely the last chapter that you'll see from this fic in a while. I am much more emphasized on writing my story of the Mirror Knight, as that one requires quite the concentration and a lot of time to write properly. Mainly because very little is known about the guy. _

_However, here is a battle which I've wanted to write for a while: I present, my take on an Ornstein vs. Artorias battle._

Certain places are never to be seen by a human eye. Those certain places drain your very sanity, and make you think more on the bad sides of your existence. You forget the great things you have accomplished in the length of your life, and instead those victories turn to twisted feed for your madness. One of those places, was the Abyss.

Knight Artorias was not even human, and he travelled the Abyss once, and never returned the same. He came back tired, mute, and depressed. He spoke only a few lines to Lord Gwyn himself, before turning and heading to his living quarters. Said quarters weren't left for weeks.

Dragonslayer Ornstein had watched his friend's door every time he walked by, hoping for his gaze to affect the Abysswalker in some way. They had always had a rather close relationship, so much that they could almost feel their eyes upon one another from across The Great Sea. Through a door would be an afterthought. But alas, Artorias never opened the door. The only one allowed in was his wolf Sif, which also hadn't been out in a while. Not even his maid was allowed in, so Ornstein imagined the room must be pretty dirty by now. Ciaran had knocked a few times, but she had told she was never answered. Gwyn himself had asked Ornstein to seek audience with him, but not even the Captain was allowed in.

A few more days passed, and Ornstein thought it was time to do something. Artorias had always been a mighty warrior, and a good fight was how Ornstein was going to start his curing run. The best cure for a broken man, was to un-break him by letting him use the talents he had, so that he knew who he still was, and so that he might recover from the void in his mind.

The day after, he knocked on the Abysswalker's door.

"_Artorias, I demand your attention!"_

No answer.

"_If you do not open freely I will blast myself in."_

He heard footsteps, but faint. _"You have ten seconds."_

_He must open, _Ornstein thought. _He has never been a fool, he always listens to reason._

10…

9…

8…

_Or has the Abyss corrupted him so?_

5…

4…

3…

The door opened, and the Dragonslayer stared into the shadowed blue cowl of Artorias. The armor was as always in one piece. It didn't look like he had touched it. The shield was in the same position as when he arrived, on his back. The sword was also the same.

"What do you want?" he said, his voice raspy and sounding like somebody dragged the tips of a plow along the marble of Anor Londo.

"_Bring Sif, and come to the arena as soon as you can." _Ornstein turned around, and walked away.

…

Ornstein was not planning an honor duel of any sort. He was going no rules, with Artorias being allowed to use Sif if he wished to. Ornstein was one of the highest ranking fighters in Anor Londo, and in terms of technical experience, many say he was the best. But Artorias was one beast of a fighter, with centuries of experience behind his sword and shield. Ornstein was not intimidated. He would not care if he lost, as long as Artorias could vent some of his depression with what he does best: Combat.

The arena was a coliseum where various ways of combat was held for entertainment. No accidents had ever happened, no deaths, no fatal injuries, always duels. Silver Knights and Sentinels often fought here to keep in shape, as standing around guarding didn't do much to help that. The bottom of the arena was a flat circle made up of a thin layer of sand. Up the sides were rows of seats for the crowds that always flocked this place. Most of these seats were already taken. Two knights of Gwyn fighting was a once in a lifetime happening, and so all of Anor Londo wanted to see it. Ornstein saw bets be exchanged up there, and eager faces peering out on him.

Ornstein only cared for Artorias, and that he would be the same old again, so he did not prepare, shout, brag or even move. He just stood in the center of the arena, with the butt of his spear planted in the ground. That did not mean that he would show mercy when fighting. He doubted Artorias would either.

The crowd was getting very loud now, not of impatience, but excitement. They couldn't wait to see this. And then they turned silent. The sound of a gate being opened drew everyone's head in that direction. A steel gate lifted to reveal a shadowed room. Nobody came out.

Then the rain came. _Of course, _Ornstein thought. _The weather has to make the battle more dramatic. _It didn't take long before Ornstein was dripping with water, still calmly waiting for his friend to enter. And suddenly, as lightning flashed, Artorias stood in the middle of the arena, not more than thirty feet from Ornstein.

Ornstein did not speak to his friend, nor did Artorias. The blue knight raised his shield in front of him, to reveal Sif standing behind him with her sword in her mouth. The crowd was dead silent now. They anticipated what was coming. Ornstein was happy they were here. Artorias always seemed to fight better when watched. Was it Gwyn who made this official? He didn't know, nor could he care. He needed to concentrate on the battle.

Ornstein bent down, into his infamous charging position. Taking Artorias off-guard would be a good way to start. He would simply stand in this position for so long until-

And then Artorias charged. Artorias raised his shield and with a mighty roar set off towards the Dragonslayer's position. Ornstein was rather baffled, and didn't react before Artorias was all up to him. The blue sword came down, and Ornstein rolled out of the way. Sif attacked, and Ornstein used his free left hand to swat the wolf away. His right hand was charging his spear with lightning, which now sprouted towards Artorias. It hit him square in the chest, and sent him flying.

_Concentrate, Artorias! _Ornstein thought. He did not want to win this early. Artorias had gotten back up, and raised his shield once again. They eyed each other. Then Ornstein turned around and backhanded the oncoming wolf, which had tried to attack him from behind. Sif was a smart wolf, no doubt about that. But she wasn't too silent with that sword in her mouth. Ornstein thrusted at her with his spear again, but his instinct took over and caused him to flip backwards. He had barely dodged the tip of Artorias' blade. He didn't wait, before sending a lightning bolt in Artorias' direction. It was blocked by his shield, but it still impacted him through the metal on his armor. Showing no mercy, Ornstein charged forwards again, pushing the Abysswalker back with a furious thrust. Sif ran around Artorias, and jumped at Ornstein while slashing horizontally. The handle of his spear did the job to block it, and a well placed kick sent the wolf sliding along the sand. Artorias was still recovering from the sudden charge by Ornstein, and as such he took a lightning bolt to the chest once again.

_This isn't working_, Ornstein thought. _Without Sif I would've beaten him already. I need him to be mad._

"_Have you truly gotten so weak Artorias?" _Ornstein taunted to the fallen knight, something he usually would not do. _"Have you truly forgotten all about combat, control of your mind, and even how to keep in shape? I see a bit of the Executioner in you!"_

"Don't… compare me… with that… CANNIBAL!" Artorias shouted, before springing back up and doing a flip, before slamming his sword down where Ornstein had stood a second earlier, had he not jumped back. _That's it._

Artorias tossed his shield away. "I don't need this to beat a mathematician."

Ornstein smirked. _THAT'S it!_

Artorias bent down, putting his free hand on the floor. A few tense seconds followed, before he shot at least thirty feet into the air before leaping towards Ornstein. The Dragonslayer readied a lightning bolt, before jumping over the incoming Artorias and landing behind him. He was about to shoot, but Artorias' landing was a bit heavier than he had imagined, and he lost his balance due to the small shock. He couldn't shoot in fear of hitting the citizens. Extinguishing the lightning, he instead anticipated Artorias' next move. His next move was to leap backwards, landing right in front of Ornstein. Quickly reacting, Ornstein thrust his spear into the ground, and lifted himself on top of it. When Artorias swiped the spear away, he used the momentum to flip behind Artorias and-…

-Artorias turned around and grabbed one of his legs, before slamming him down on the opposite side. "Nice try," he said. Ornstein scrambled himself up again, barely getting a look at Artorias before a wide swipe came his way. He managed to duck under, but the next overhead swing came too fast. Instinct took over, and he stepped to the side, barely avoiding the thundering sword. He feigned a thrust at Artorias, which he tried to sidestep, before spinning around and instead swiping his spear horizontally. It connected.

A gash appeared on Artorias' right shoulder, which started leaking blood. Artorias did a backslash to get some space in between the two, before checking the wound. _Earlier he would've stopped to check the wound immediately, which would've given me plenty of time to attack again. He is becoming his old self now._

_Which is better for him than me, _Ornstein finished his line of thought.

Artorias shook his arm, perhaps in an attempt to forget the sting, before entering his usual battle-stance. His sword was pointed diagonally towards Ornstein, and his back was slightly hunched, and his legs were spread about three feet from each other. Ornstein saw what was coming before it happened, just as Artorias kicked off behind and skid towards Ornstein, leaving a trail of flying sand behind him.

Just as the thrust was about to connect, Ornstein swatted the attack aside, before countering with a quick stab. Artorias twisted his body to let the spear pass, before he cut for Ornstein's chest. It was ducked, and the Dragonslayer stepped around the Abysswalker as he recovered, and thrust for his exposed back. When Artorias made to parry it, he pulled back before leaping high into the air. He sailed in, Artorias looked up, unable to react in time, and-

-Sif _barraged _into Ornstein's vulnerable side, sending them both sailing along the sand in the arena. Ornstein stopped by planting his foot into the ground, and turned just to see Sif leaping towards him once again. Her attempted swipe was parried by Ornstein, but in the corner of his eye, he saw a blue figure fly towards him. And in the next second, Artorias' greatsword _slammed_ into the ground just where Ornstein stood, kicking up tons of sand into all three's eyes. Ornstein had been lucky to avoid the devastating blow, and thanked his trained reflexes while rubbing the sand out of his eyes. He opened the neck of his helmet slightly, letting the sand fall onto the arena floor.

Just as the sand which obscured his vision fell, he saw Artorias' sword incoming, mere feet from his chest. He couldn't dodge it, he couldn't block it, he just had to take it.

The sword connected, and all the air in his lungs shot violently out of his mouth and nose, as the pure strength of Artorias sent him flying into the air. He barely reached inhaling before splattering on the ground once again, and sliding along the now-wet sand from all the rain.

As thunder struck above, he rose back up, and eyed the duo in front of him. Sif and Artorias were both waiting for him to recover, which Ornstein now was thankful for. He wouldn't have been able to fight if they had both charged him the moment he hit the ground. He wasn't sure if he would have done the same for Artorias if he was the one who was sent flying, but he was thankful nonetheless.

As lightning struck once again, Ornstein had readied his charge, and was now torpedoing towards Artorias, spear aimed at the Abysswalker's chest. Artorias dodged early, and Ornstein redirected his charge towards Sif. He did not intend to actually spear the wolf, but…

That was what happened. Ornstein was about to raise his legs to kick Sif, perhaps knocking her out, but the wolf's recklessness caused her to jump towards him, and he struck her bare in the chest. The spear entered in front, and exited out her back. Blood suddenly colored the rain red, as well as Ornstein's armor and the sand beneath. The Dragonslayer could only watch in a slight shock as the wolf wimped, before falling to the ground… _Lifeless._

Ornstein realized the terrible mistake he had done, and withdrew his spear before turning to Artorias. The blue knight only stood and looked at his wolf friend, before slowly turning his gaze to Ornstein.

"_Artorias…"_

And then, an animalistic bellow escaped Artorias' mouth, before he stabbed his sword into the ground. From the spot, a purple aura shot out and started covering the area. Ornstein, realizing what was happening, jumped to shield Sif, just in time as the aura struck his armor.

The Abyss had been unleashed.

The moment he got into contact with the dark aura, his armor turned into a shade of black. He watched as his earlier completely gold gauntlet was turned into dark steel, and he felt the lightning spark inside him blacken as well. Ornstein was now fighting the Abyss… _inside_ himself.

The Dark clouded his mind, turned him angry, reckless, before Ornstein shielded his mind with a wall of lightning. His own mental power struggled against the Dark, and for one heart-wrenching moment, he thought he was going to lose. And then his mind turned to his King, Gwyn, his friends, Gough, Ciaran and Artorias, and all the knights and peasants he was responsible for. The lightning wall inside him escalated tremendously in power, before overpowering the Dark inside him.

And then, with a cry of rage, lightning and Dark exuded from Ornstein's body, before disappearing in flash. Ornstein had overpowered the dark, using only his mental power. However, he knew that the Abyss never quite left what it touched. He did not know where inside his soul it was located, but he knew that it was _there._ Somewhere inside him, was a spot of pure Dark, and it was going to spread. He looked at his gauntlet, and saw that it had returned to its brass color. It wasn't very reassuring, but it was something.

Ornstein turned his attention to the wolf, but Sif seemed untouched. Before Ornstein was struck, he shielded the wolf with a barrier of pure lightning. He was relieved that it had worked.

But he had forgotten about the wound.

"_Guards! Come here now, and bring Sif to a healer! She is dying!"_

Two Silver Knights came through the same metal gate that Artorias had entered through, and ran over to the wounded wolf, before carrying her out.

Then Ornstein finally turned to Artorias. The blue knight was hunched over, gripping the hilt on his sword, with Dark literally dripping from him. The black liquid was dripping from his ribs, hood, arms, shoulders, knees, everywhere it could fall, it fell. Artorias' neck was bent as well, like he was fighting something inside his head. Ornstein wanted to talk to his friend, but he knew that he must wait till Artorias was finished battling.

A few minutes passed, with multiple twitches and physical reels escaping Artorias' body in the time, before he slowly craned his neck to look up.

Ornstein was about to ask if he was alright, before he was cut off by another animal-like roar from Artorias. And then, the blue knight charged. This time in an animalistic way, his sword was dragged through the wet sand, while his body was completely out of balance. Ornstein did not know how Artorias would fight now, but was not waiting to find out in the bad way. Instead, he lowered into his charge-stance, and observed how Artorias reacted. No change was noted, Artorias just kept running, and so Ornstein charged forward. His spear _plunged_ through Artorias' body, ignoring all armor, before escaping from his back.

_Just like his wolf companion, _Ornstein thought. It was a peculiar thought, but right now Ornstein did not care. All thoughts were accepted into his worried mind right now, as long as they were about one of his friends. His worry for them was that great.

Artorias did not stagger from the fatal thrust, and swung his sword vertically at Ornstein. The lack of reaction surprised Ornstein to a degree that almost got him killed, but he was able to sidestep the swipe marginally. Still with Ornstein's spear embedded into his body, Artorias swung once again, this time horizontally. Ornstein had enough trouble with keeping a hand at his spear, and so the swipe barely missed his head. Before he could swing again, Ornstein tore his spear from Artorias' chest with one powerful jerk, and jumped backwards to get some air between him and the Abyss. Oh yes, the Abyss itself was dripping, surging and steaming off Artorias, making everything about him more animal than anything.

_Including his combat abilities_, Ornstein thought, just as Artorias leaps into the air once again, somersaulting, before _smashing_ his blade into Ornstein's spear, which was already up to parry. The parry was unsuccessful due to the power of the swing, but the long recovery that Artorias went through still allowed a stab to connect with his leg.

Artorias did not seem to register the hit once again, so Ornstein had to take the swing on his chestplate. The broad end of the sword connected, and Ornstein felt, for the third time, unwelcome air lifting his body high into the ground, before landing inelegantly in the wet sand.

Ornstein was almost knocked unconscious now. He could feel that the fight was slowly taking its toll on him. The small spark of Abyss inside him felt heavier and heavier with each blow landed by Artorias, and his muscles went weaker and weaker for every blow he landed on Artorias. He was about ready to give up. Artorias had unlimited stamina, power, strength and speed due to the Abyss' power. _He_ felt like he was about to collapse any second.

But then, in all the darkness, Gwyn's face popped up. It spoke familiar words:

"_Dragonslayer Ornstein. My most trusted, noble, brave and fiercest warrior, I present you with a Captain's title. However, before you accept this, you must know that you will then have a responsibility only second to mine. The council are a group of people, but you are just yourself. You're one, they're many. Therefore, the responsibility and safety of the people, the Knights, the council, the guard, me and my children, is upon your shoulders…"_

Ornstein remembered how he had accepted immediately. Had he been aroused by the need to be rewarded with the "Captain" title? Had he thought that he could actually protect the entirety of Anor Londo by himself? Right now, it seemed like a massive burden…

But it was a Captain's burden. He, Dragonslayer Ornstein, had accepted the title, because he knew that only he could accept it. Only he could protect them all. Only he could stand for their rights. Only _he_… was standing between the Abyss, and the people he had sworn to defend.

With newfound strength, he put his elbows underneath him, before shooting up on his legs. The sound caused the corrupted Artorias to turn around, and Ornstein could swear he saw an eyebrow rise under the Abysswalker's blue hood.

_Yes, I am back, and I am ready to take on the power of Dark… Unleash all the hell you have, because I am the only thing between you and the rest of the city. Defeat me, and the rest is yours._

He did not know if the Abyss could hear his thoughts, but he hoped so. All he needed to do was hold Artorias (and his corruption) away from the citizens until Gwyn heard what was happening and came for them. And right here, in the stormy night, he swore on his life that he was going to do so…

And then Artorias attacked. His sword came diagonally towards Ornstein's chest, and he easily sidestepped it. He did not counter, and instead waited for Artorias' follow-up, which came out as an attempted slap from his free hand. Ornstein grabbed Artorias' wrist, and used all the power in his legs to lift both himself and Artorias off the ground. He may have overdone it a little bit, as they both found themselves over 50 feet into the air relatively quickly. Once high enough, Ornstein tossed Artorias to a nearby tower jutting from Anor Londo's streets, and then redirected himself onto another tower.

They were now 60 feet over the streets of the gilded city, each on their own tower, rain pouring and lightning cracking all around them. Ornstein put both his legs into the side of the tower he was clinging to, while using his left arm to hold onto a ledge he found. While a bit unorthodox, Ornstein found that this was the best way to bring the battle away from the people below. He hadn't actually realized that they would go this high, so he assumed that Artorias had pushed off the ground with his own legs as well. Perhaps Artorias' mind still had a little bit of control in there. Why else would his body help Ornstein get away from society?

Suddenly, the top of the tower Artorias was on exploded into dozens of debris and dust. And from that dust, Artorias came. His sword was mere inches from severing Ornstein's arm, but Ornstein had reached hooking his spear onto the tower, before pulling his arm back to avoid the blow. Artorias made to knock the spear away, but Ornstein kicked him in the chest before he reached doing so. Artorias, now out of balance, was unable to react as Ornstein twisted himself around his spear to get closer, before grabbing the side of Artorias' head. And then, with a clock-clear clang, he banged Artorias' head into the marble of the tower. The sound shot down through the raindrops and into the streets below, more than one head turning towards the sound, all wondering if Gwyn was having a bell installed.

Artorias' abyssal side did not allow for a long stagger, despite the smash's power, and his sword came vertically on Ornstein once again. Ornstein pressed his body flat against the tower's wall, the blade marginally avoiding his chestplate, before kicking Artorias' chest again. Artorias had too much adrenaline to register the blow, but he was still knocked out of balance due to his vulnerable position after his swing. Ornstein quickly switched his spear to his left hand, and pinned Artorias against the wall with his handle. He hooked Artorias' ribs, and reeled himself in, gaining momentum…

Before _burying_ his legs into Artorias' side. The sound of bones shattering filled the sky, and in less than a few seconds, Artorias' heavy shape was falling, with Ornstein shortly coming after. Ornstein observed how Artorias' body changed position, now falling head first. The fall was certain to kill Artorias if he landed in this position, and so Ornstein kicked with all his might in the air, trying desperately to reach Artorias before he hit the ground. His fingers were mere centimeters off Artorias' leg when he observed the ground quickly rising, and so he used all his remaining power to twist himself forward, wind rushing past his ears, rain falling behind due to his massive velocity… And then he had grip on Artorias' leg. He pulled himself in, held his arms around Artorias, twisted Artorias over him…

The ivory marble of Anor Londo's streets shattered into pieces, and a small shockwave erupted from the spot where a Dragonslayer's back collided with the City of the Gods… With Artorias on top. Marble erupted into a massive spectacle of debris, and dust shot out of the area, covering more than 60 feet in radius. A few minutes later, a massive crowd gathered in the rain, they were all standing around a massive crater, in the center of which laid the two knights.

The last thing Ornstein heard was a familiar voice, yelling at the crowd to move. And the last thing Ornstein saw, was a tall figure, shrouded in robes… And the face of Gwyn staring at his rapidly fading eyes.

…

_I am not going to decide who wins a fight like this. I know, maybe I should've just to put this debate to rest, but I always think everybody should have their own opinion. I spent hours writing this battle, and I hope the product came out as intended._


End file.
